She's A Strange One
by IronMansAChick
Summary: My first published Fic! X) Lestrade takes Sherlock on a different kind of case that would usually mean nothing to him. A case about a strange girl they found on the highway. She won't say who she is or where she came from yet the only person she seems to have know is Sherlock Holmes. Has my own Character in it annnd eventual SherlockxOC
1. The Blue Eyed Girl

**Note: This is the first thing I have published on the internets. Also when I say that Sherlock is fond of a certain name, the story Sherlock actually was for some reason.. I tried to keep his character as "Sherlock" as possible...Tried.. Review I guess.. and enjoy..**

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So far it had been another dull morning in 221b Baker street. John Watson sat at the table in the kitchen blogging about their most resent case which he titled, "The Woman". The entry was completely useless in Sherlocks eyes seeing as none of the information on the case could actually be revealed. Of course John Watson believed it showed Sherlock Holmes was a human being and somewhere deep, he may have heart.

Sherlock at the moment was aggressively playing his violin. Not in any certain melody. Just violently thrusting his bow up and down on the strings.

"Sherlock can you please stop that racket!," John shouted, closing his laptop. Sherlock stopped briefly.

"Thank you!," John said thankful, but confused that Sherlock had actually listened to him. Sherlock put down the violin and walked over the coffee table towards his room to get his coat. When he came back into the sitting room John looked at him confused again, until that is, Lestrade came through the door. Calmly this time. Not busting in on Sherlock like he had when he needed help on A Study In Pink or whatever John had called it.

Sherlock raised an eyebrow in curiosity. Clearly Lestrade wasn't here for an emergency and Sherlock had not heard of any recent murders that could at all spark his interest in London. But Sherlock knew that if Lestrade was here then there was reason enough to listen.

"Greg!," John exclaimed.

"What is it? It isn't a murder. Missing person perhaps?," Sherlock said with his handsome as fuck pea coat on. John got up (even though he literally just sat down god damn it!) and walked over to the coat hanger to grab his coat.

"Close, but not really," Lestrade answered. Somehow now Sherlock and John were now both standing in the sitting room fully clothed to work on a case, "I don't really know how to describe it right now but I think you would find it rather interesting. We have a girl down in Scotland yard we think you should speak to."

"We?" Sherlock said suspiciously while adjusting his gloves.

"I know we actually all agreed that you should be in on this for once," Said Lestrade once more while heading out the door. Except after that he popped his head back inside, "That is, All except Donovan." Then he was officially gone. The Interaction was quick but effective and soon John and Sherlock were both downstairs trying to hail a cab.

Not many words were spoken on the way there and neither of them questioned if this would be a case worth the attention of Sherlock Holmes. It really was a rather boring morning.

"Okay boys that'll be (I have what the distance between 221b and Scotland yard is so..) ##### Pounds." The cabbie said. Sherlock got out right away leaving John to pay for the ride. John thanked the cabbie and hurried toward Sherlock.

"What do you think it is that Lestrade wanted to show you?" John asked.

"Lestrade wouldn't bring me here if it wasn't important"

"Ah yes," John sighed, " I don't know what I expected."

Since Lestrade had only left a few minutes before Sherlock and John had, he was ready to greet them and immediately escort Sherlock to the interrogation rooms.

"Okay, So we found this girl a few hours ago, completely naked, on the side of the road." Lestrade started.

"I'm sorry what does this have to do with us?" Sherlock asked slightly disappointed.

"Don't worry, she's got clothes on now," Lestrade answered with humor, "She's a strange one. According to her she has no family nor does she have any friends who can identify her. Shes pretty shaken up and she won't say much."

"And this should interest me."

"I think it would."

John and Sherlock stepped into a room which was on the other side of the interrogation room. Through the window they could see a girl who seemed to be in her twenties, clothed in what Sherlock recognised as Donovan's stained jeans and Lestrade's casual button up plaid shirt. Her hair was up to her shoulders and it was mostly dirty blonde but there were streaks of a lighter colour there too.

"Has she told you her name" John asked Lestrade.

"Alice, or so she tells us anyway."

"What makes this a case I would be interested in?" Sherlock looked at Lestrade annoyed.

"Aside from the fact that she doesn't really speak much she did seem to know you. Me and Donovan were-"

"Donovan and I."

"-Were talking and I mentioned bringing you on to question her. She over heard me say your name and she recognised it," Lestrade spoke matter-of-factly.

"So, Sherlock's been becoming quite popular. He's been in the newspaper. Front page even" John stated. Sherlock looked at the girl. Not "looked" as in how you and I look at people. But looked, as in the way that only Sherlock Holmes can look at some one. Studying. Piecing together the puzzle that is each Human Being he crosses paths with.

However, this girl. She seemed different. He couldn't get much of a read off her. She looked up towards the window. Close to where Sherlock was. He was slightly taken aback by how blue her eyes were. As blue as sapphire.

"What do you want me to find out?" Sherlock asked not taking his eyes off the girl.

"Something. Anything. We need to know at least where she came from."

Sherlock didn't wait for permission. He opened the door to the interrogation room and sat down in front of her.

"Sherlock," She said. Sherlock heard slight shock in her voice and her eyes widened in recognition.

"I don't know you," He said flat-out. She had said only his first name which struck him as odd. They had never met and yet she already felt comfortable on a first name bases.

"No," She replied in the sadly, "I suppose you don't."

"What is your name? Surely it isn't Alice."

"Of course it's not."

"Then what is it?"

"Mysteries, Mysteries, Mysteries." She sighed and looked down. After a moment's silence she looked up, placing her hands on the desk, "Why do you want to know so badly"

"I don't. Okay then, Alice, where are you from."

"A place"

Sherlock closed his eyes for a moment and gave a sarcastic smile.

"Why does it matter?" She asked.

"Lestrade is trying to take you home." The girl looked at the mirror in disgust. Sherlock looked into her eyes once more. They were haunting as if she had a past that she kept hidden.

"Who are you?," Sherlock asked for the last time. But he didn't mean her name. He meant her in general. There was something about her that put Sherlock off and he couldn't tell what it was so it only made him more impatient. The girl looked at him again with one eyebrow raised.

"My name is Violet and where I come from doesn't matter at the moment. I know Mr. Authority over there thinks that I must be some sort of victim of a horrid crime, which I assure you, I am not. I am not from here and I am not a huge fan of waiting in dull rooms such as this. I'm actually kind of bored at the moment."

Sherlock looked back her trying to piece her together again. Her name was Violet, she wasn't lying about that and for some reason it made Sherlock happy when he came across some one with the name. He liked the name although he couldn't remember what it reminded him of. As for the rest of it, Sherlock couldn't find a lie on her face.

"I'll convince Lestrade to let you out," Sherlock said. He stood up and she smiled. He didn't like not knowing things and he wanted out before things actually started getting confusing for him.

"Thanks!" She said brightly and Sherlock walked out the door without another word. Lestrade looked at Sherlock waiting for answers.

"Everything she said was true and she doesn't look like she's going to tell you where she lives any time soon. She's not a run away nor is she any sort of victim. I believe it's time you let her go Lestrade. Now do us a favour and don't waste our time. John," John quickly followed behind Sherlock spitting out questions violently while Sherlock shrugged them off. Lestrade watched them leave, Sighing as he looked back at the girl who was waiting impatiently in her chair to be let free.

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**Okaaaaay I'll make more. But if y'all (Did I just say Y'all..oh no) Want to keep reading it be sure to tell me because I might write it and just...not...upload it..Please review it and say what you think. If ANYONE is out of character tell me because I really did try hard :) until next time then!**


	2. A New Neighbor

**Note: Here is the second Chapter! woot woot! I'm slightly disappointed with it, but I really hope you like it. **

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Sherlock looked out the window with his Violin in hand. He was playing his own version of Funeral March by Frederic Chopin on his violin yet he made it faster losing the effect of eeriness the piece brought on. John sat across the table next to him. John closed his lap top finishing another blog entry about their most recent case about Irene Adler. He looked up at Sherlock. Sherlock had become extremely unattached since "The Woman" but ever since yesterday, Sherlock hadn't said much of anything. John had heard him mumble a few times but he couldn't make out what he was saying. John pondered on all the possible ways that he could get Sherlock to talk about it, but knowing Sherlock, there was no right approach.

"Sherlock," John cleared his thought. The silence in the flat had become unbearable,"you haven't said anything since you talked yesterday when-"

Sherlock struck his bow against the strings of his violin and put them down gingerly.

"John, I appreciate the concern, I really do," The expression on his face said otherwise, "But I am starting to find you sudden interest in my life bothering."

"I'm just trying to help"

"Why, so you can diagnose me? I'm not a patient, John. I'm... fine" For a brief second Sherlock showed an emotion. A combination between confusion and fear.

"I'm not trying to diagnose you, Sherlock. I'm just-"

Riing ring-ring-riiing.

John sighed as the doorbell rang. He wasn't really sure how he would have finished the sentence anyway. I'm just trying to be a good friend? Possibly, but John couldn't imagine that sentence helping the situation much. Sherlock looked out the window to see if there was anyone he would take interest in.

He only saw a glimpse of her as she stepped into the door, but a glimpse was all he needed. Sherlock Furrowed his eyebrows and turned, walking out to the stairway in a hurry.

"Sherlock?" John called behind him. Sherlock walked out the door to his flat to see her again. Violet, the girl he interviewed yesterday.

Violet didn't see him. She had her back faced toward him and she was talking with Mrs. Hudson. Sherlock stayed on the steps for a bit an listened.

"Hi, you must be Mrs. Hudson, we talked on the phone earlier" Violet said holding out her hand which Mrs. Hudson took graciously. Violet must have gone shopping seeing as she had on normal black hoodie and a pair of blue jeans. She carried a large stuffed messenger bag that could have carried a few more pieces of clothing.

"Violet, Oh yes I remember. You're here to take the room upstairs," Mrs. Hudson replied. Sherlock stood shocked. The flat upstairs had been empty for a few months. The last people who had lived there moved out after a month of having to deal with Sherlocks loud noises and the occasional foul smell from lab experiments gone wrong. Violet turned around, taking look around the building. The moment her eyes laid rest on Sherlock her face contorted in confusion.

"What the hell are you doing here?," She shouted. John had finally came up behind Sherlock to see what was happening.

"I should be asking you the same question" Sherlock said in the same monotone voice he always used.

"Is that the girl from yesterday" John interrupted. Sherlock ignored him.

"We live here. What are you doing here?" Violet shifted uncomfortably and then pulled a crumpled up news paper out of her bag.

"It was on the paper. I needed a place to stay. I called Mrs. Hudson and she said she could give me a month free until I could get a job," Violet pointed toward the news paper defensively. Sherlock examined her face again. He saw genuine surprise on her face. Neither of the two were expecting to run into each other like this.

"What happened yesterday?" Mrs. Hudson asked aloud in response to John.

"John," Sherlock said plainly and John went down the steps and led Mrs. Hudson off to a different room to make her a cup of tea and explain. Violet stood uncomfortably and waited for something to happen. Sherlock walked down the steps slowly.

"I promise you I am not a stalker! Cross my heart! I had no idea that you lived here," Violet spoke fast and panicked.

"I believe you," Sherlock said, letting himself fall off the last step. She was obviously uncomfortable. She shifted left and right and rubbed her palms on her jeans.

"This was the only flat I could-"

"Yes, you've already explained that."

"Then what do you w-"

"Who are you" There was a long silence between them. She looked down and rustled her hair.

"I told you"

"You told me your name was Violet and you weren't from around here. Now you're here about to take the flat above ours."

"I moved. Do you do this all your neighbors."

"Not always."

"Well isn't that reassuring," Violet chuckled nervously. She looked up at him again, "What about you. Who are you?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes at the question.

"You know who I am," Violet nodded to this, "How? I have never met you."

"News papers maybe" Sherlock saw she was lying. The way her eyes moved and pierced her lips. However, the look she gave him next wasn't expecting. A light smile played on her lips and her eyes told eyes looked as if they could tell so many stories that Sherlock was curious to hear. Sherlock felt as if he should know this girl but he never forgot a face. She was clearly a different person outside the interrogation room.

"How about this," She began, "How about I take the room upstairs and I'll come downstairs for a cuppa in about thirty minutes?"  
Sherlock looked at her and held out his hand.

"Welcome to Baker street" Sherlock smiled politely. Violet shook his hand and returned the smile.

"Mrs. Hudson!" She called, turning around, "I think I'll take it! Thank you!"

Mrs. Hudson rushed out in a daze. She looked a bit bewildered.

"Oh, oh, okay. Do you need me to show you to your flat?"

"No Mrs. Hudson I can show myself up, thank you very much," Violet said as warmly as possibly. Violet turned to look at Sherlock," And you, I'll be down in a moment."

She walked around Sherlock and quickly ran up the stairs. John came out behind Mrs. Hudson with a mug in hand.

"Whats happening" He asked.

"We're about to have tea with a new neighbor," Sherlock said and left John as confused as ever.

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**Okay now.. I hope you enjoyed that part. I may have messed with it in this chapter and I am very sorry. Please review kindly and if anything seems off , tell me and I will try my best to fix it! Thank you so much for reading! (Everything in this chapter went really fast I'm sorry!)**


	3. Deduction and Deception

**Wow! Two chapters! one day! Wow I am tired... Please enjoy this chapter also.. Review please and If anythings off please also remember I am lacking the sleep... Good night... Enjoy.**

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"Sherlock whats happening?" John asked following Sherlock around the house. John still had the mug in his hand that held the tea he had made while he was down in Mrs. Hudson flat. Sherlock was rushing walking around the kitchen, pulling out tea cups and setting water on the kettle.

"Our new neighbor, John. Did you not hear me? She's coming over for tea." Sherlock looked over the kitchen table which was filled with science equipment and different sets of chemicals. Sherlock didn't plan on cleaning up the kitchen table, but he moved around some things to make him feel busy. After moving them into different places he moved them back to their original positions.

"Sherlock, that girl could be dangerous. What if she's a spy? What if she's working with Moriarty?" Sherlock looked up at John.

"I highly doubt she could be associated with a man like that. Nothing on her face writes speaks criminal. She just needed an apartment and she found one. Nothing evil in that, John." Sherlock said, although he couldn't really tell if he believed it himself. Everything about her came off as mysterious and possibly dangerous. She had said nothing of who she was or where she came from. She had brought absolutely nothing from the place she had come from, which made it hard for Sherlock to observe and deduct. Sherlock could tell where the dirt off of someones shoe had been from, but seeing as she had been found with nothing on, that didn't really help. She had bought all her clothes the moment she got out of Scotland yard, using what Sherlock guessed was money Lestrade lent her.

"Sherlock, you don't actually believe we can trust her right?" John looked at Sherlock sternly. Sherlock grabbed the mug from Johns hand and poured out its contents into the sink. John looked stunned.

"Hopefully, that's what we're about to find out," Sherlock went to the cupboard and brought out three new tea cups and set them on a tray. John threw up his hands in surrender.

"Great, just great. We're about to have tea with a potential criminal. Great idea Sherlock, bloody fantastic," Sherlock continued to set the tray. There was a knock at the door.

"Hello?" Violet called. John rolled his eyes for the last time and put on a polite face and walked into the lounge.

"Hello, you're Violet. I, uh, I saw you yesterday," John said. Violet furrowed her brow, "I was behind the glass while Sherlock was speaking with you"

Violet let raised her eyebrows skeptically and then let out a laugh.

"Oh yes, Dr John Watson. You're a military man, am I right?" Violet asked cheerfully. She stuck out her hand which John took and shook roughly.

"Yes, how can you tell?"

"The way you walk. You have the posture of a military man. It's very plain." John returned the smile Violet gave him. John thought he could see the reason Sherlock thought she couldn't be a criminal. The way her face lit up was much to kind and welcoming.

"You're earlier than expected," Sherlock announced walking into the room with the tray he was setting earlier and placed it on the coffee table, "I thought you said half an hour."

"Yes, well I realised that I don't really have a whole lot of luggage to unpack and I didn't want to just wait around in an empty flat forever, so I decided to come down early," Violet answered, "I hope you don't mind."

"Not at all," Sherlock replied while pouring three cups of tea. John gestured for Violet to sit down on the couch and John sat at the other end of it. Sherlock handed the two each a cup with a plate underneath and sat down in a nearby arm-chair with his own cup.

"So, Violet. Why exactly did you choose to live here?" John asked. Sherlock raised an eyebrow at him. Violet looked at John.

"You were there John, I don't have to explain it again. I just needed a place to stay," Violet looked at John with the same smile. John was trying hard not to trust her but, outside of the interrogation room she didn't look or sound dangerous at all, "Look, I'm not a serial killer, stalker, crazy woman. I'm Violet and I have come her to start a new life. It's not that uncommon and I swear to you, I had no idea you two lived here. If I knew I would have probably ignored it, but seeing as this is the only place I can afford at the moment, I'm afraid you two will just have to ignore me"

When she said this she mostly addressed Sherlock. Violet looked at Sherlock and her blue eyes pierced his meaningfully. A small voice chimed in Sherlocks head but he couldn't make out what it had said. A memory perhaps. A long forgotten one that was buried deep and Sherlock subconscious. Sherlock sat in silence for a few minutes trying to dig up the lost memory to no avail. When he came back to reality he found John had just given up on the idea of her being a criminal and started chatting her up.

"-and I got shot in the shoulder in Afghanistan, which somehow led to a psychosomatic limp in my leg," John paused for while Violet laughed for a bit.

"So you're a war hero! How in the world did you end up with Sherlock Holmes?"

"John came to my lab a year ago when I was looking for a flat mat," Sherlock said blandly.

"Aw yes, the first question he asked me was 'Afghanistan or Iraq'. He had knew me before I even had the chance to meet him!," John continued. Sherlock looked between the two. There was a ping in his chest as he observed them.

"Oh, his deductions," Violet continued, almost as if she knew Sherlock again, "When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, However improbable, must be the truth."

John and Sherlock looked at her curiously.

"How do you know that? That's Sherlock's thing," John asked blinking. Violet sipped her tea and Sherlock watched the movement of her eyes carefully. She looked towards her lateral right and spoke again.

"I must have seen it somewhere in the media. Newpapers or something," She fleetingly looked a John and then at Sherlock.

"A construction of words," Sherlock muttered under his breath so low that only Violet could hear him. She looked at him for a moment and then acted like nothing was said. He knew she had just lied and she knew, he knew.

"So, now you guys, what, solve cases together?," Violet changed the subject and John moved on with it and told Violet all about the last case they solved. Technically he wasn't allowed to talk about it, but he continued to talk about it anyway. Sherlock scoffed at all the bit where John mentioned any sort of feeling he had toward "The Woman" but John that was what John talked about the most. Sherlocks reactions to "The Woman". Violet nodded silently and every once in a while she would look at Sherlock sadly. By the time John had finished telling the story it had began to get dark outside.

"Oh, look at that, ha, It's getting pretty late. I'm actually really tired so I think I'll back upstairs and get some rest," Violet said, rising from the couch. Sherlock and John rose to be polite and followed her out.

"Do you even have any blankets or sheets up there?" John asked. Violet widened her eyes over dramatically.

"I- I don't think I do," She looked down disappointed.

"Well, I'm sure I can lend you some blankets if you need them," John started to walk out the door but Sherlock stopped him.

"No. It's fine I'll get them," Sherlock said and he walked out the door and started to head upstairs. Violet followed Sherlock leaving John in more confusion than ever.

Upstairs Violet waited as Sherlock picked up some of his own bedding and began folding it so it would be easier to carry.

"So Irene Adler?" Violet said.

"What about her?"

Violet shrugged sadly.

"Nothing really," She replied. Sherlock looked at her and threw the blanket on the ground, grabbing one pillow.

"If you think I had feelings for that woman because of how John sugar coats it, think again," Sherlock picked up the small pile of bedding he had just made and handed to Violet.

"Thanks," She said. Once again she looked into his eyes, " You did like her didn't you? She was like an equal to you and that makes you interested. She almost thought like you and you thought you were the only one who was capable of being clever."

Sherlock squinted at her. He had never really thought about it that way. Not that he would ever admit to it, of course.

"To you she was "The Woman". The woman who almost got past you. The woman who brought the worlds greatest detective to its knees," Violet eyes glistened. The two were silent for a few minutes and then Violet turned to leave. Just as she walked through the door she turned back to look at Sherlock.

"Just so you know Mr. Holmes. You are not alone and one of these days, instead of finding 'The Woman' you'll find 'A Woman' and maybe over time you'll realise who she is."

Violet turned around and hurried out of the room and went upstairs. Sherlock stood there for a few minutes before closing his door and laying on his bed to think.


	4. Mind Palace and Solution

**_Okay, Here's the next chapter. I hope you enjoy it! A friend of mine actually really helped me finish it when I was having writers block so I would very much like to thank her :) And I'm sorry once again if It's a bit OCC But eh, no bodies perfect and I try my best for the most part. Please enjoy and review. I do my best at my worst so here you go:_**

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Sherlock had been lying in bed all night thinking. He hadn't moved from his position since Violet left and he hardly even noticed when John came to see where he had gone. His hands were pressed together as if in prayer and placed under his chin. He felt as if he should know her but couldn't remember from where.

"Who is she," He muttered. He didn't understand why he was so caught up on one girl so suddenly and it bothered him. She bothered him. However, Sherlock now considered her a mystery that needed solving although he didn't know if he would like the outcome of it.

Deeper and deeper, Sherlock went into what he called his "Mind Palace." There, in the mind of a genius, was a memory. The memory was locked deep down within Sherlocks mind. Somewhere he kept memories he no longer needed or wanted. Sherlock strained to remember again, but to no avail. It was like trying to read a email you had already deleted. However there was always a way to retrieve that email again, just by using the right lines of code.

Sherlock pushed at the door that held his memories. He started to hear whispers of a moment that happened long ago.

_Sherlock Holmes_, the whispers said,_ nice to meet you._ _I heard you were a pompous jerk._

A picture started to form in his head and a fuzzy memory started to project itself behind his eyelids.

_A 20-year-old Sherlock Holmes looked up from his book on all the different types of trees in Britain to find a girl with blue eyes looking at him skeptically._

_"I don't know, you're reading a book about trees. I can't see you being that bad of a guy," She said. Sherlock looked up at here._

_"Fantastic, how in the world did you come up with that deduction," Sherlock responded sarcastically. The girl raised one eyebrow in reply and Sherlock mimicked her._

_"Okay," The girl lowered herself down into a seat across from Sherlock, "Maybe you are a bit of a jerk." _

_The girl smiled politely and Sherlock ignored her and looked back towards his book. She sat there making weird faces at Sherlock for a few minutes before he decided to care._

_"What do you want?" Sherlock almost shouted. The girl raised one eyebrow again._

_"You were sitting alone. I didn't have any one to sit with so I came over here. Thought it might me interesting," Sherlock rolled his eyes._

_"If you're trying to make a friend out of me, you're wasting your time,"_

_"Why is that?"_

_"I don't have friends and I like it better that way. Let's me focus on the things that are actually important." Sherlock looked back towards his reading material expecting her to leave._

_"Well, aren't you just the loneliest little shit I have ever seen," She said with sarcasm written all over her face. Sherlock looked up at her, closing his book dramatically. She continued to give him a sort of smug look, " I don't have to be your friend I just thought you would be interesting. I heard you had your own theory?"_

_Sherlock shifted uncomfortably, wishing she would leave. He really wasn't interested in talking to anyone at the moment._

_"Yes, the Science of Deduction, but I could hardly say I cam up with it. It is a science based around the fact that when you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be true. It requires a level of observation which many people lack,"_

_"Hm," The girls facial expression changed into one of interest and then curiosity, "So Mr, Holmes, what can you deduce about me? You're a show-off right? Show-off."_

Sherlock fluttered his eyes as he tried to remember more but this was all his mind palace had to offer.

"Interesting," Sherlock said back in his bed at 221b baker street. He couldn't seem to remember any more at the moment but Sherlock was determined. He had met her. He knew that now. Sherlock got up from his bed and walked out of the room to head upstairs.

Sherlock pounded on the door to the upstairs flat violently at 12 AM. It only took a minute before the door swung open to a confused looking Violet.

"Sherlock? It's like...Late at night." She said looking around for a clock.

"Obviously," He said walking into her flat without being invited. The flat was empty for the most part, but there were a few things sprawled across the floor and Sherlocks bedding was sitting still folded on the couch. Sherlock elected to ignore that for the moment and get to the point. He turned on his heel to look at Violet, "I remember you."

Sherlock watched Violets face change from confusion to one of guilt. She made sure that the door was closed before she turned around to speak to Sherlock.

"How much do you remember me?" She said slowly. Sherlock shook his head.

"Not much but that's why I am here. Who are you, really. What secrets are you keeping," Sherlock stood over her to display a threatening sort of dominance. Violet sighed and walked moved around him and went into the kitchen. Sherlock followed. On the kitchen table there were tool sprawled out everywhere and there was a small contraption in the center. Violet ignored it and strode over to a coffee maker which had been left there for the next owners of the flat. She poured herself some coffee and set it down on the table, setting aside the tools and making room for the two to sit down.

Sherlock eyed the tools and the contraption in the middle but chose to wait to ask about it. Violet to a careful sip of the hot coffee before talking.

"I guess we should begin with who I am," She said. Sherlock said nothing in return so she continued, " As you already know my name is Violet Collins. From all the supplies I have on the table you can probably deduce I'm an inventor but that's hardly important right now. You and I had two of the same classes in college and those were Chemistry and Anatomy."

Sherlock winced a bit as he tried to remember. He started to remember bits and pieces.

"I met you by just kind of interrupting your reading. I can't remember what it was you were reading but I cannot imagine it being very interesting. I remember it being a really sort of awkward and rude conversation and I asked you to deduce me and you looked at me and I thought you were actually about to say something profound but you just said that I had a horrible taste in clothing," Violet chuckled to herself and rubbed her face. The memories were still being held back by some unseen barrier.

"Why not say that you knew me?" Sherlock drummed his fingers on the table. Violet sipped her coffee again.

"Sherlock, if you don't remember me than that's a clue right there why I didn't tell you. I might have done something, made you want to forget me. Maybe it's best you don't try to remember who I was then," Violet looked at Sherlock with the sincerest of eyes and Sherlock looked back coldly, "We knew each other for about two years before I left"

Sherlock sat silently trying to remember again and Violet sat watching him hoping he wouldn't. Minutes that felt like hours went by before someone finally spoke again.

"Sherlock, it's late," Sherlock looked at her for a moment and then he gestured to the contraption on the desk.

"What's that?" He asked. Violet looked at it in disgust.

"It's supposed to be a power source," Violet pushed it back a bit, " It's not really going to well at the moment, but hopefully when it's done it can power at least half of London."

Sherlock looked at it with interest.

"May I?" Sherlock asked. Violet nodded and Sherlock took the device in his hands and looked at it all around. It was round and heavy and had patterns on it that looked like circuit boards. Sherlock was rarely ever this impressed by something, "This is very intricate. But it looks more like a computer than a power source."

"Well, it sort of is. It's kind of alive, actually," Violet looked at it slightly impressed with her own work too. Sherlock looked at her and waited for her to explain it. She smiled at him, "I made the design for it myself. The core of this...Battery is actually sort of alive. It's like energy that produces more energy."

Violet smiled wide as she examined her own masterpiece. Sherlock looked at her. He was truly impressed but he didn't let it show. He just sat there and watched her be in love with her work. She had started to pick up some tools and tinker with it, completely forgetting Sherlock was even there.

"Who were you," Sherlock broke the peaceful silence. Violet looked up at him. He had asked her who she was plenty of times but this question was different. Sherlock was asking how they knew each other. How they were connected. Violet understood this and sighed. She didn't plan on giving him any real information.

"I don't know. I just met you one day and then I met you the day after that. Then it just kind of became a thing where we met up every day and then it wasn't just meeting up everyday-"

"What was it, then?" Sherlock asked as emotionless as always.

"It was," Violet looked up at the ceiling looking for the right words, "It was very you. I often followed you around and helped you with your little mysteries."

Sherlock thought harder and this time he could see a glimpse of a younger Violet and a Younger him breaking into different properties, investigating crimes and doing experiments.

"I guess you could say I was the equivalent to Doctor John Watson except we we're both scientists and we didn't work with the police. I think you might have met Lestrade sometime after I had left, I don't really know. I'm glad to see you're doing..," Violet hesitated looking at Sherlock up and down before sighing and said, "...Well."

"Why did you leave?" Something deep inside Sherlock hoped it wasn't his fault but he quickly put a cover over it, inwardly sneering at the emotion.

"I had my reasons," Violet looked down fiddling with a nearby screw. She looked back at him with sincere eyes, "Sherlock, I can't imagine how you managed to forget all of it and I can't say that I would blame you for doing it but don't you think that if you tried this hard to forget then it would be best you don't try to remember? It just...Didn't end like expected, I guess. Nothing lasts forever. All things come to an end. Our end just wasn't pleasant."

Sherlock looked at her quietly. The emotions that he had covered up for so many years screamed for him to remember. He pounded the wall that kept the locked memories. He wasn't sure how to respond but for some reason Holmes felt he was at fault. Whatever it was that made her leave it must have been his fault. He was an arrogant jerk and he had been told so many times. People had always hated him and it figured that he would finally find someone who would stand by him and then push them away. Sherlock opened his mouth. He thought he should say sorry for whatever it was that he did, however...

"Well whatever it was it must have been your fault," Sherlock didn't mean to sound so cruel but he did and Violet, to Sherlock surprise looked at him in shock. He could see all the signs of her about to start crying. He immediately got up and left before anything else could be said. He frowned at himself for saying something so naive and useless. He regretted going up there in the first place. Sherlock Holmes quickly pounded down the stair not caring how much noise he made. In took a short stop in his own sitting room to grab his coat and a well-hidden morocco leather case and then he left 221b baker street in the middle of the night.

Sherlock had never been interested in his life. He walked down the streets of London with his head held high however there was always a feeling of self-loathing. His whole life he had been called names from freak to heartless bastard and Sherlock had adjusted by locking away emotions but the names always stuck. There were very few times when Sherlock had not felt disgust in himself and many of those times he was with John Watson.

Sherlock dug deep into his mind once more, looking upon the files in his brain on the subject of Violet Collins, but found nothing. However there was one thing that usually helped Sherlock Holmes think and he always knew where to find it. Last time he had used nicotine patches, but this was much more than just a three patch problem. He took out the small Morocco leather case to check if everything was still inside. He closed it again and took a turn into a dark alley, travelling the rest of the way in the shadows of London.

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_**I hope you liked this chapter also. I try hard to keep it interesting and I can't keep it hidden forever. Sometimes you just gotta except that's you can't edit it ant further. I had another Idea for this chapter, but I was already doing this one so I really hope you like this one. Please review I guess and tell me if you liked it. I want to Thank my friend again for helping me finish it and giving me the idea on how to start the next chapter. Also thank you all for reading still! :)**_


	5. Pursuit of Thought

_**Okay, I have a perfectly logical reason why this took seven million and a half years. It kept deleting itself. And also school started and I've been really busy...Sorry. So yeah, I didn't double check this chapter (1 because its longer than the others. 2 I'm also lazy). I really hope I get better at this...(I might rewrite this altogether) **_

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John awoke when he heard a loud crash from the main room of 221b downstairs. Unsure of what he heard, John sat in his bed and listened. He soon heard what sounded like someone kicking glass away.

John grunted as he got out of bed and put on his bath robe. He went downstairs and saw Mrs. Hudson on the bottom floor looking worried. John nodded toward her. Comforting her and telling her to go back to bed. She nodded back and went back to bed. John opened the door to 221b to find Sherlock Holmes pacing back and forth through the room. On the floor were shards of a bowl that John had received from Harry, his sister, on his last birthday. John looked at it and sighed. It was quite ugly and John couldn't really care about it, but the fact that Sherlock had broken it in the middle of the night and not bothered to clean it up bothered him.

"Sherlock," John said with a sense of anger in his voice. Sherlock turned around and looked at John and then back at the glass on the floor. Sherlock, upon seeing John's resentment toward the broken pieces, swiftly came by and brushed the glass under the table, "Sherlock!"

Sherlock ignored John. John stood and stared at Sherlock, almost in disbelief of how inconsiderate and childish he was being (well, more than usual), but as John observed him longer, he saw noticed that something was off about his friend. John looked around and saw on the coffee table, a Morocco leather case that John had hidden, himself. The case held the tools to Sherlock's drug addiction and John stood silently, looking at it, before sighing and rubbing his face, thinking of what to say.

"Sherlock," John said calmly resting his hands back at his side. Sherlock turned around and John examined him with a doctors eye. Sherlock walked over to John with an unusual amount of energy. He looked John in the eye and a sly smile played on his lips. John saw his pupils where dilated and he sighed again. Energetic and Dilated pupils were only two pieces of evidence John Watson needed to confirm that Sherlock Holmes, was indeed, high. Sherlock Looked at John excitedly while John looked back at him woefully.

"I'm beginning to remember, John," Sherlock said, slightly breaking his monotone voice with an emotion John read as a mixture between excitement and something desolate. Sherlock turned back around and started pacing again, bowing his head and pressing his fingers to his temples. Every few seconds he would snap his head to either side of him as if someone or something unexpected was watching him.

"Sherlock you were doing s-"

"John!" Sherlock shouted, he turned to John again, reaching out and grabbing him by the shoulders violently. John stiffened, thinking Sherlock was going to lash out or grow violent somehow. He started to think of the safest ways to detain Sherlock. Sherlock saw John tense and he loosened his grip but didn't let go, "That isn't important right now!" Sherlock pointed to the ceiling defensively, licking his lips. John looked at Sherlock in disbelief.

"How is this not important right now!? Sherlock, you sai-"

"Don't dwell in the past John. I have my methods. It's helping. It works. I can almost remember her," Sherlock looked around the room, paranoid. John looked at Sherlock worriedly. John looked at the ceiling needlessly, as if he could actually see what Sherlock was pointing at.

"How much did you take," John said loudly. Sherlock rolled his eyes agitatedly.

"Why, John? So you can diagnose me! I am not one of your patients!" Sherlock practically shouted. John sighed again. He decided to change the best course of action was to change the subject. No matter what, Sherlock was not going to accept Johns help with this. Maybe when the drugs had left his system a bit, Sherlock would allow John to help, but Sherlock had put himself on a personal case, which never happened and it was best not to intervene.

"Violet? You remember Violet? From where?" John asked. Sherlock had walked away to check every corner in the house and suspiciously looked out the window. Paranoia came with the addiction. When Sherlock was done he looked back at John who had taken rest on a nearby chair. Sherlock groaned audibly and slumped into the couch. He lay in it with his hands in prayer and placed over his mouth. When he spoke he placed his hands under his chin as to not disrupt his profound form of speech.

"Women, John," He started, "I never understood your interest in them. Or at least the kind of interest you have in them," Sherlock flicked his eyebrow up and then set his jaw, as he went into deep thought, "Womankind are truly profound creatures. Truly."

"Get to the point, Sherlock," John said as patiently as he could. Sherlock glanced at him briefly before going back to his rant.

"The motives of woman can be so...inscrutable. How can they build on such quicksand," Sherlock said holding his arms in the air. John sat and listened to Sherlock. He hoped he wouldn't have to call Mycroft. To Mycroft, it was always John's fault when these things happened. Sherlock continued practically whispering, "There are the type of woman who would do anything to try and attract the opposite sex. Getting up every morning colouring their faces and dressing in tight fitting clothing as to impress. It's sickening, John. I will never understand that about humans."

"They walk around dreaming of," Sherlock wrinkled his face, "some man to sweep them off their feet. To protect them against whatever harm befalls them. I don't understand John. They go out and buy expensive clothing that is meant to flatter them so they could receive that second glance while walking down the street. Although when they do receive that second glance, the feeling of pride is swift. I've seen it. The whole world is full of attention-seekers and dreamers."

"Why must people be so naive, John?," Sherlock looked at John. His facial expression was emotionless but his eyes held a certain kind of hurt. Sherlock looked up at the ceiling again and pointed at it.

"Her," He said, seemingly off track. John looked up at the ceiling too.

"Where do you know her from?" John asked. He had never seen Sherlock in this distressed state before and it made him nervous. There was a break in Sherlock's emotional dam and it was leaking.

At the question, Sherlock thought hard. Trying to remember. Trying to break through the wall that kept his memories at bay. He tried to remember why he had forgotten her in the first place.

"College," Was all Sherlock could utter and began to scratch at his wrist annoyingly. Sherlock recalled what Violet had said a few hours ago, "We had two of the same classes together."

John nodded slowly, as if he understood. He didn't though. He couldn't understand why Sherlock, a man known for his great mind, would forget everything on one girl. He knew that Sherlock was capable of erasing small bits of knowledge from his brain, but how could he erase the information of a whole person.

"Why can't you remember her?" John decided to ask. Sherlock closed his eyes in concentration. He ran through the long halls of his mind palace, opening thoughts like file cabinets. Still nothing. Yet far in the back of Sherlock's mind there was a voice telling him to leave it alone. Telling him to forget. Sherlock opened his eyes wide and, much to Johns fright, got up and accidentally knocking over a nearby lamp, sending it crashing to the floor. Sherlock stood looking at it and John stood ready, just in case Sherlock would get violent. However, he didn't. He looked at John, almost as if he was himself again. Straight faced and broad shoulders.

"I feel ill," Sherlock said calmly. He started to walk towards the door and John followed after him, just to be sure he wasn't going to do anything that could jeopardize his health. Sherlock trotted up the stairs and took a quick turn into his bed room. John stood outside the door for a minute to make sure that he wasn't going to come out of his room. Sherlock sat on the bed and John heard the bed creek. The doctor inside of John wanted to go in and examine him, just to make sure he was okay, but he decided against it. John went back downstairs to grab the Leather case that held Sherlock's supplies and carefully hid them in his own room. He would talk to Sherlock about it tomorrow, when he was sober.

Sherlock sat in his bed listening to John Watson, waiting for the hint that he had settled down and wasn't going to rise until morning. This took a while as John had kept awake for a little while so he could listen to Sherlock's movements next door. When Sherlock was sure that no one was listening, and after calming down a bit from the drugs he had taken only an hour or two ago, he silently opened the door to his bed room and tip toed up the stairs.

When he reached Violet's flat, he gently knocked on the door and awaited reply. When that didn't work, he knocked a little harder. Soon he began to hear the shuffling of foot-steps approaching the door. A disgruntled Violet opened the door. She was dressed a longish tee-shirt and a pair of shorts. She had Sherlock's sheet wrapped around her like a cocoon. There was a spot on her shoulder that Sherlock observed to be the beginnings of a rather large burn mark. She stood in the door, about to ask him for an explanation, but she stopped. Sherlock was leaning against the door frame lazily. The cocaine had taken its toll and it was beginning to wear off.

"Oh, god fucking dammit, Sherlock," Violet said, "What the hell did you take," She grabbed Sherlock and helped him stand steady, "Oh, Never mind, I know."

"I remember," Sherlock slurred. He felt tired. He had thought about going to bed but for some reason he felt this is where he needed to be. Looking at her he could almost remember this. This scene right here happening years ago. Sherlock showing up at her doorstep, high or drunk, and Violet taking him in graciously each time. Violet stared at him for a moment and a sad smile played on her lips.

"Not yet, you don't," She replied. Slowly, she brought him over to her couch where she had the bedding Sherlock had lent her, finally sprawled out. She sat down on the corner of the couch and he sat on the other end. She took off the sheet and placed it around Sherlock's shoulders. He watched her every movement, while tearing apart his brain for answers. He looked briefly at her shoulder again at the burn, but decided not to ask about it. Looking at her in his current state of mind somehow made the wall grow thinner. Bits and pieces of Sherlock's past life were making their way to his consciousness. Without any explainable reason, Sherlock started to lay down, setting his head on her lap.

He blinked and looked into Violets blue eyes. They were dark as Sapphire and they swam with a tragic past Sherlock was desperate to know. As he watched her, the thin latex veil in his mind that broke open easily. Sherlock rolled his head back, looking up. He sighed and closed his eyes.

_The day was cold. Just like any other day really, but it was around the time in winter where everyone was sick and at home. Sherlock, however, stayed where he was. He came back to the same table every day and picked out a different book from his satchel. Whatever interested him at the moment, but not too interesting, as he was expecting to be interrupted. He always pulled out a book before she came. The girl, Violet, who had started to share his breaks with him a few weeks ago. At first, he found her a nuisance, he originally thought it was because she needed help on something or if it was because she might have fancied him. After a few days, Violet proved Sherlock wrong. Now he had grown quite used to her though. It was strange for him. He had never really let himself grow attached to someone because it always ended badly. If he ever grew fond of someone, they always seemed to do something that made Sherlock lose all admiration for them._

_ Sherlock heard the soft foot falls on light frost. Behind his book he smirked, slyly. After their first meeting, Violet had just shown up every day_, _and instead of trying to talk to Sherlock like she had on day one, she just sat there and read with him. They talked, of course, and much to Sherlocks surprise, Violet was quite intelligent. She was studying to become an inventor and a scientist. She said she could do both and Sherlock encouraged her. He found she was interesting to talk to. After the first week they had begun to sit together in class. Sherlocks theory of this is, that Violet started sitting with him because a Sabastian Wilkes had called him a freak earlier that day and commented that Holmes didn't know what having a friend was like. It was childish prater that Sherlock had had to listen to since he was young. He never really paid attention to it but apparently Violet had heard this and when the class had started, Sherlock was surprised when she slid into the seat next to his. She smiled and said "Hello" and winced at Sebastian when he came into the room. _

_ She hadn't bothered Sherlock at all, either. She kept amazing him. She sat next to him taking notes and listened intently. Sherlock just listened and stole awkward glances at her every so often. _

_ The foot falls had reached the table and Sherlock heard a quiet clash of books hitting the table. Sherlock put his book down, reclaiming his non-chalant face. _

_ "Hello," She greeted him. He looked at her and greeted her back. She immediately got to her studies, opening a textbook. Another thing Sherlock liked about her, was the fact that she didn't try hard to get people's attention. Other than the time she came and sat with him, she kept away from most people, as it was easier to concentrate on the things that really mattered, when you have less people to distract you. They sat there like that, both reading their books, for a long while until Violet placed her hands in her hair and shifted agitatedly._

_ "What is it?" Sherlock asked without taking his eyes off the book. She hadn't really made a scene out of being frustrated with something, but he noticed her subtle movements. As well as everyone else's._

_ "Forensic Science is not my strong suit. I honestly don't know why I am taking this class," She replied, turning the page, roughly. Sherlock peered over his book to look at the page she was on. The questions were on certain gun shots. The side of his lips lifted. This was one of Sherlock's MANY strong suits. Sherlock found forensic science compelling. It was one of his favourite studies._

_ "Childs play, Collins," He said, using her last name. He got up and he moved to a seat closer to hers. The questions were on certain gun types and there entry holes and exit holes. Violet scooted a bit and turned her book, excepting the help with a polite smile. The book had pictures of different Exit and Entry holes. The questions were simple enough. You had to name what type of gun the shots came from. Sherlock pointed at the first one lazily._

_ "Well that one comes from a 9 millimeter bullet, obviously," Sherlock stated. Violet wrote it down but then shushed him hurriedly before he went on. He looked at her surprised. He had been looking at her like that a lot._

_ "No no no no no, No straight answers! How do I expect to learn anything by you just telling me the answers?" She argues. Sherlock blatantly smiled. It was the first time he had done so in front of someone in a long time and actually meant it. She smiled back at him with furrowed brows. _

_ "Well I'm afraid I might not be that good of a tutor, then. I can probably explain why things are the way they are but I can't do that without giving you the answer," He said. Violet sighed again._

_ "It's fine. Really. I'll figure it out," Sherlock looked at her for a moment, pondering on ways he could help. He didn't really know why he wanted to, but he felt it was the least he could do for the company he didn't know he wanted._

_ "There is a gun range," He said, clearing his throat. Violet looked up at him confused, "Not very far from here. I can drive you there. I can show you the differences between gun shots entry marks." Violet lit up some._

_ "Brilliant! That might actually help! Will you really drive me?" Violet looked truly excited and Sherlock nodded awkwardly, "Oh you are brilliant! That would be fantastic. I couldn't thank you enough."_

_ "It's really nothing. It's the least I can do. Just meet me here, a little before dark." He checked his watch while gathering his books and his satchel, "I had better make some calls, Laterz," He said before walking off._

_ That night Sherlock sat on top of the table throwing his car keys up and down and swinging the ring of the keys around on his finger. He heard Violets familiar foot falls and turned to look at her. They greeted quickly before Sherlock sort of rushed her to his car that was parked by a curb. It was an impressively clean black Sedan that Sherlock had borrowed from his brother Mycroft. Of course, he didn't really ask, but Sherlock didn't worry because he knew the car would be returned before his brother would notice._

_ They drove for thirty minutes with Violet restlessly sitting in her seat looking out her window the whole way there._

_ "Do I get to shoot a gun?" She asked. Sherlock smiled at her, slyly. _

_ "If you wish."_

_ Violet smiled and leaned back in her seat. Another aspect Sherlock thought highly of. Her sense of wanting to do things herself. She liked performing her own experiments. Also the fact that she was a scientist. Forensic Science was not a subject that you would take if you wanted to take her certain career path. She did it for the love of science._

_ Sherlock decided he liked her. Maybe he could consider her a friend. He smiled wide, for one of the first times. He made a quick move to hide it but he was still exceptionally happy._

_ For the last few minutes of the car ride, they had started up a rather interesting conversation about Chemical science which led to chemistry and somehow fell upon personal life, which really didn't matter much but for some reason Sherlock let slip that he originally wanted to be a pirate when he grew up. He immediately regretted saying it as, although she didn't laugh at him, he thought it was a rather embarrassing subject. Violet did, however, sit next him, smiling widely, thinking of how innocent and loving young Sherlock Holmes was._

_ "Here," Sherlock said, pulling the car into the curb and shifting the gear into park. Violet jumped out immediately. She looked at the gun range which was dark with closed doors._

_ "its looks closed," _

_ "Yes, great deduction, Violet," He said sardonically, "I must have forgotten to tell you, it closes early in the winter. Also this is the only way we will both be able to actually..shoot," Sherlock looked at her with slight guilt. He hadn't taken into consideration, that she might not be fond of his method. He hoped, silently, that this wouldn't push her away, as he had only, just began to consider her a friend. He expected her to be disappointed and asked to be taken back immediately. Of course, he was wrong again._

_ "But, we can still get in right," She said instead, with bright eyes. Sherlock smiled widly, he had never been more pleased to be so wrong about someone in his life. He walked up to the building and took out a small kit of assorted tools used for lock picking. Violet skipped behind looking all around her with either paranoia or wonder, "I wondered why a Gun Range would be open at night. If we get caught, I hope you know how screwed I am. But I guess it could be viewed as sort of exciting. Almost like a game." She gave a little jump of excitement at the last word._

_ Sherlock continued to smile as he picked the door. He heard the lock snap open and he held the door open for her._

_ "Well then, Ms. Collins, the game... is on." He said to her. The two entered the building and quietly did their work. When they shot their guns they did so quickly. The whole process was rather quick as they did not want to be found out, so there really isn't much to say about it, but they both had enjoyed themselves greatly. Sherlock helped her on how to hold and point a gun and she had amazingly good aim for her first time. Sherlock commented on it. Sherlock had given it a shot also, but as he had done it all before, he looked a bit more professional then she did. Hurriedly, they grabbed the sheets of paper and wooden planks they had shot at and went back to car. They drove a few blocks away before examining the differences in bullets holes. Violet used a felt pen to mark the names of the guns and the bullets they used, on the sheets of paper and wood._

That was the first night Sherlock and Violet really spent together. Sherlock came back to reality but only for a second and heard Violet humming the tune to what he recognized to be as Blackbird by the Beatles. Sherlock fluttered his eyes for a second, he remained where he was with his head in her lap and she stroked his hair softly looking out the window, nearby. He closed his eyes again and allowed his long forgotten memories to wash back over him.

_Months had gone by after the gun range. Sherlock and Violet spent more and more time together. As they were both Scientists, they often went to each other's homes to assist each other on experiments, but not before Violet made some horrible pun on Sherlock's last names and it's comparison to the word, Home. Every so often, Sherlock would teach Violet some of his trade, The Science of Deduction, and after a while that had made a game out of it. They would sit at their table and Sherlock would tell her what a man had been doing that passed day and she would be entertained and then she would give it a try. It usually ended with "Not bad, but you are missing everything important," or " great deduction, Violet, But wrong."_

_ Violet had grown fond of Sherlock's rudeness. It was somehow comforting. They were both the most intelligent people of their classes and they agreed on many intellectual ideas. When they worked together, it could almost be described as Mechanical Harmony. When they were in one of their kitchens (which they both used as a personal lab rather than an area to cook or eat) performing experiments, whether it be together, or on separate projects, they were capable of working with such fluid precision. If Sherlock needed something, he would only need to make a small notion and it would be in his hand within seconds and the same went for Violet. They worked together with perfect symmetry._

_ They were consistently sharing information and after a while, Sherlock even began teaching her how to play the Violin. She caught on quickly and eventually they began spending some evenings listening to each other play. Some nights they went for walks and just talked. When they went on those walks they never talked about Science or experiments or anything of the kind. Their conversations were a lot more personal. Sherlock never talked to some one about personal issues and it felt strange to let someone into his personal life, so it began with her talking and him listening until he was comfortable enough. When he finally was, he felt a weight off his chest as there was finally someone he could relate to._

_ During one of these nights, Sherlock and Violet were casually walking side by side in silence, going nowhere in particular, when they both were startled by two loud BANGS from a gun. Sherlock ran toward the shots and Violet followed behind. The whole process was very quick. Sherlock turned into an alley way and there laid a man, with one shot in the chest and a second between the eyes. He heard the all too familiar footsteps behind him and he turned around to try and block Violet from the scene. _

_ "What's happened?" She asked, trying to look past Sherlock._

_ "A murder, it seems." He replied looking around the area in case the killer was still there. He held Violet by the shoulders and pulled her close so she didn't have to see the mess behind him. However, she wiggled herself free and saw the man laying down, looking toward the stars in a bloody mess. _

_ "Jesus fucking Chriss-." She stopped mid sentence and breathed out._

_ "Violet, the killer is probably not that far off," Sherlock reached out his hand toward Violet, expecting her to take it. Instead she got closer to the body and looked at it examining the man instead of backing off. Sherlock noted that she looked a bit sick and tried to get her away from the scene. _

_ "Did you bring your mobile?" Sherlock asked. Violet shook her head no, still looking at the body. Sherlock grabbed Violet by the hand and pulled her out of the alley. He rested her by a nearby wall and she slid down it with her hands covering her mouth. _

_ "Take a deep breath," Violet listened and started to take shuddered breaths. Sherlock noted this as shock. He also remembered a telephone booth a block or so away, "Stay here, keep breathing, I'll be back." and Sherlock left Violet alone. _

_Sherlock found the booth quickly and dialed for police. He gave the street name and address and a brief summary of what had happened. His rushed sentences were clear and well-spoken as to lessen his time speaking owing to the fact that there was already someone waiting for him to return around the corner. Also, his unperturbed and emotionless form of speech was enough for the help line operator to add 'Caller suspected?' Onto the report. Sherlock filled in very few more details before he dropped the phone onto its hanger and left the booth. At first he walked quickly, each stride taking him further due to the atrocity of how long his legs were. Yet, he was momentarily stricken when he heard a blood-curdled scream from the distance that obviously belonged to a woman. He paused briefly before he started sprinting toward the direction the scream was in._

_ "Violet!" Sherlock ran faster to see that she was no longer where he had left here, "Violet!" He shouted again. He ran down the alley and past the body. He stood a while and looking around. On the cement of the floor Sherlock saw skid marks of Violets shoes and he started to follow them as if they were bread crumbs. He didn't need to go far. He quickly found a man holding her at knife point. Violet was crying but she made no sound as one hand covered her mouth. Sherlock looked into her eyes and watched as her eyes frantically darted to something behind him._

_ Sherlock spun to find another man bringing a gun up to his face. Before the man could take action, Sherlock pointed at him, and shouted "Police!" to the empty air behind the robber. The man looked behind his back frantically and Sherlock took the chance to swipe the guns from his hands. Quickly Sherlock hit the man with the butt of the gun and swiped at his legs. The man toppled to the floor with ease. Sherlock turned to help Violet but he saw she was handling herself with few struggles. Her captor had been in a trance. The fight he had seen between Sherlock and his partner was completely unexpected to him and Violet had taken advantage of the situation and grinded out of his arms, putting hard pressure against the arms that kept her and pushing down as to break the barrier. Once free, she kneed him in the groin before he had time to realise she was free. When he bent down slightly, for a second, to regain his composure, Violet, in one last stand of defensive action, punched him twice in the nose until it broke and blood streamed. Sherlock watched for a moment, intrigued, before going over and knocking her captor over the head too, sending him to the floor with his partner._

_ Sherlock turned to Violet with a congratulatory smile plastered unevenly upon his face. The gun swung at his side improperly, as if held by a man with no experience in dangerous weapons. When she turned to look at him, his smug grin vanished. From what he saw, she looked utterly broken. Not once in had he ever thought of Violet as vulnerable, which she wasn't. She was too strong for her own good. But here she was, she had met her limits and Sherlock had finally discovered them. Sherlock turned the safety on and dropped the gun at his feet before taking a few long strides and pulling Violet into his arms. He wasn't used to this kind of interaction, but he knew he had to do something, and he felt this was it. She emitted a load, choked sob, before she started wheezing loudly and Sherlock stood there awkwardly, not really knowing what to do. He tried to talk to her, but he was afraid it might have come out rude, like apparently everything he said._

_ "Shh everything is fine, stop this, please? Breathe. Come on Violet, breathe. You're one step away from hyperventilating," he said in a calming voice. Violet coiled up into his chest and hugged him around the waist. He was worried. For a split second he thought he might lose the only person who had willingly stayed with him. He thought he would be all alone again. Sherlock tightened his hold on Violet and buried his face in her hair. The police had arrived however the two ignored them, momentarily hidden from sight. Without thinking Sherlock lifted Violets head and pressed his lips against her forehead and then between her eyes, brushing his thumb against her cheek. Slowly he made his way down and his lips hovered over hers. His breathe was hot against hers and they both stood hesitant in each other's arms before Sherlock broke away in a confused rush._

_ "They're here!" Sherlock shouted down the alley way, pointing at the men on the floor, thankful to get his mind onto more pressing matters. He didn't exactly know what was previously going through his mind, but he could feel the heat of blood rushing through his cheeks and was glad that it was too dark for anyone to notice. Especially Violet, who knew him for being somewhat monotone and emotionless, never showing a shred of humility. There was a mad rush of footsteps running toward the two and soon there were two men cuffing the unconcious killers on the floor as for safe measure. One called for a gurney as to transport them. As this went on, a tall man calmly strolled toward the two in professional clothing. His fair hair and set jaw gave the appearance of someone strict._

_ "Hullo, my name is Inspector Gregson. It seems to have been a tough night for ye both. Can ye follow me please?" Gregson said in accent that had just a hint of Scottish origin. He held out his arm and gently nudged the two out of the alley, where there where three police vehicles and one ambulance where paramedic had packed in to men, there weren't expecting to have to load. The Inspector waved at one of the paramedic and she quickly went digging through the van and jogged over to the two to check and see if they were okay. Violet had took a seat on the hood of one police cars while Sherlock stood beside her besides her thinking. His mind racing with personal thoughts and intelligent reflections. The paramedic attended to Violet and placed an orange blanket on her shoulders. When she left, she placed another ugly blanket on Sherlock's shoulders and he sneered at it, but didn't do anything about it._

_ "Do either of ya need anything? Anything at all? We've got another ambulance on the way if ye two'll be needing it?" Gregson chided. Violet shook her head, shedding off the ugly blanket as the paramedics drove off. Sherlock did the same and placed it on the hood of the car._

_ "No thank you. We don't need anything at the moment. We'd rather just go home, if we can." Sherlock insisted. Gregson rubbed his jaw._

_ "Not just yet, I have to ask a few questions first," Violet nodded and Gregson asked them a few questions, Including where they lived and how he can contact them and then asked for a recollection of the night. Sherlock was the one who gave the brief summary of what happened and Gregson wrote everything down in his journal. It was another one of those, "Rather quick processes" Although it felt much longer to the both of them. Gregson dabbed at his journal as he finished the last of his notes. He tried to politely smile at Sherlock and Violet to make them feel more comfortable but his jaw was so square and serious that it looked unnatural on him. _

_ "I think ye both are free to go, fer the night. Just expect to be hearing from us again."_

_ "WE- ahem- We don't need to go with you or anything? That's all you needed from us?" Violet muttered. _

_ "For now. I'm pretty sure we have the right guys, we'll contact ya if we need something, of course. And there might be a hearing to attend in the future. We'll phone ye both." Sherlock cleared his throat and said thank you to Inpector Gregson and held his hand out for Violet to follow him. Violet whispered her thank you's, also, and grabbed Sherlock's hand the two of them started to shuffle away. They both looked back at the scene and saw more cars arriving and one large black van that sherlock assumed was the Coroner. Violet clenched Sherlocks hand. He glanced down at her before letting go of her hand and replaced his arm around her shoulders to hug her tightly. Arm-in-arm they walked, heading to the closest flat which happened to be Sherlock's. They didn't speak until they were comfortably sitting around a table._

_ "Are you going to be alright?" Sherlock said, looking at Violet worriedly while she looked deeply into a cup of tea that steamed up into her face. She looked to him, smiling kindly, and nodded._

_ "It's not like I haven't seen a dead body before, Sherlock. I've been to the morgue."_

_ "Yes, that's the morgue. Those are for scientific purposes. Have you ever witnessed a murder? I don't believe you have and I could see plainly on your face that those are two very different things."_

_ Violet sighed, "Yes, watching the life of a man drain out of him is an extremely different thing than seeing already lifeless, cold, cadavers in the morgue, but surely you can understand that I don't want to talk about that at the moment."_

_ Violet rested her elbow on the table and put her chin in her hands. She sat looking at the floor and started to hum a melody that Sherlock had helped her compose, months ago. She often sang when she was nervous or under pressure. Sherlock liked it though. It was soothing. She wasn't the best of all singers, but she was decent and he liked listening to her voice, which was a weird thing for him to admit... Even in his own head._

_ "What do want to talk about then," He asked her, mimicking her actions. She stopped humming and looked back at him. They both sat there staring, tracing the curves of the others face with their eyes. They were Parallels to each other. Sherlock spent the moments of silence examining her, as if it was the first time he had ever set eyes on her. She was so unpredictable, maybe not to others, but definitely to him. Maybe he would understand if he looked hard enough. He examined the curves on her face and the fullness of her lips. Her wide Sapphire blue eyes sparkled as if they were the actual gem. Her eyes. Dilated pupils. Sherlock moved watched as her eyes follow his. Soon, even the freckles in their eyes were aligned. Their faces had been brought closer and neither of them could remember how that came to be. Sherlock tried to think, but his analytical mind had shut down. He reached up and gently cradled her face with his free hand. He felt her face grow warmer and he looked down toward her lips pulling her closer._

_ "What are you-" She whispered. Sherlock moved closer to her, until his lips rested next to her cheek._

_ "I don't know." He whispered back in the softest way he could with his baritone voice. Violet shuddered at the three words. She played them back in her head. The three words Sherlock Holmes would never speak. She whipped her head around to look at him, however, when she turned, Sherlock pushed his face against hers the moment there eyes were aligned once more. They both sat there awkwardly for a minute, both in shock. Especially the man who had never kissed anyone, nor even really had any real human contact because he has pushed everyone else in his life away. Except her. Which he realised made her special to him. How she was special, Sherlock couldn't comprehend yet. But he just wanted her near, always and forever._

_ Violet grabbed him by the face as well and Sherlock got the impression that she were going to push him away. She would comment on his freakish behaviour like everyone else and she would be the one to push him away. Because that was what he was. A freak. Sherlock had broken a dam of pain and he didn't want to be pushed away anymore. And he expressed it in his face. Violet felt the muscles cringe in his face as, instead of pulling away, she shifted his head to the point where pressing two faces together can actually become a kiss. Slowly, Sherlock began to ease into the action as if in foreign territory._

_ Sherlock had read a book once about romance. The author had described the act of kissing as if it contained magical properties. The whole world is supposed slow down and the only place you are supposed to want to be is in each other's arms. The two had fallen in love at first sight and something like 'Serendipity' had brought them together and the moment they finally kiss the whole world seemed to stop for a while and everything was happy and pleasant and apparently all the evils in the world had washed away._

_ Sherlock hadn't known why he had retained that information, it wasn't important and it was incredibly futile for someone like him. He was a Scientist. He was analytical. He didn't need anyone. The two pulled away slightly to breath before reconnecting. _

_He wanted someone though. He didn't know it until now. This was something he would have never thought he wanted. To be loved? To love?_

_ Love was a chemical reaction in the brain. Just like another science experiment. Was this all this moment was? A science experiment. No, Love is also a feeling. But Sherlock couldn't say for sure that was what he was feeling. The two finally broke apart, directing their eyes to their feet. Sherlock felt the hands still hot on his face and thought about fairy tales and bed time stories he had heard when he was a young child and had found adventure stories fun. He realised how unrealistic it all was. No ones problems end by happy ending. If there is even such a thing?_

_ "What are you thinking?" Sherlock asked silently. He wasn't expecting to say anything but he realised how much he just wanted to know about her. He wanted to be in her mind and know what she was thinking, "I'm sorry, I was just-"_

_ Violet silenced him by kissing him tenderly on the lips once more. His face was bright red and when he glanced back at her he looked utterly flustered._

_ "I cannot possibly express what I am feeling," Violet said, "My mind is racing back and forth in every direction and I cannot possible sort out enough thoughts to place them into words on how I feel or what I am thinking. Personally, I blame you," Violet smiled and watched him, looking into each of his eyes. His face was still above hers and he was remained only inches away, but he was far enough so she could see his whole face , "What are you thinking, Mr. Holmes?" She said placidly. Sherlock swallowed but smiled at the same time. It was a dorky grin that Violet had never seen before and it made her heart flutter._

_ "I don't know." He whispered after a pause, "I don't want to know just yet." _

_ Violet moved it closer to him again until her lips were practically touching his ear._

_ "Know what Mr. Homes? I'm Knackered. Truly exhausted." _

_ Sherlock looked at her questioningly and Violet laughed._

_ "If you think that's code for something, it isn't. I'm really fucking tired," She said rubbing at her face. Sherlock smiled back, unsure of what to do so he mimicked her actions._

_ "If you want you can sleep in my bed, I may not sleep tonight," Sherlock cleared his throat and pointed to the door that led to his room. Violet smiled kindly and headed off but stopped and turned again at the door, more serious than she was a few moments ago._

_ "I have seen a lot today, nothing I am used to," Violet drawled cautiously. Sherlock looked up and tried his hardest to look unamused, yet his goofy grin left a small trace, like a scar. Violet couldn't 'unsee' it. Besides, she had known him for too long at this point to not see behind his mask. _

_ "Yes?"_

_ "Would you like to join me?" She said blatantly," I mean...I've seen a lot today." She said as if it explained everything. Sherlock looked back at the floor. He still couldn't process anything and his mind was full of mixed puzzle pieces. He studied Violet without a word and rose from his chair and joined her by the entrance. _

_ He stood close, not caring about personal space. He reached up gently and cradled her face once more as she closed her eyes. He bent his neck down and he kissed her on the forehead affectionately and then lifted her chin and kissed her lightly on the lips. This is what his heart told him to do. He opted to follow it. _

_ "If it would make you feel more comfortable." He whispered. Violet smiled under his touch. Sherlock followed violet into the room and they spent the night, pretending it was natural. They spent the night as they did their walks, except closer and more personal than ever. They laid side by side in each other's arms, talking. A majority of what they spoke of was about science at first, as it was all they really knew what to talk about. They talked until they no longer could think of anything else to say except Violet broke the silence._

"Dopamine, Serotonin, and Oxytocin." She said curtly.

"The chemical imbalance that forms in the brain when one supposedly falls in love," Sherlock answered.

"Supposedly?"

"Supposedly. I don't bother myself with archaic emotions…"

"Why? It's a feeling. Like any other. Contrary to popular belief you are very human, Mr. Holmes..." She murmured. Her mind drifting in and out of consciousness and her speech getting continuously more slurred. Sherlock stayed silent after that and felt her breathing pattern slow and her body slump more comfortably against his chest with her head resting on his shoulder.

Sherlock stayed awake and attempted to re-gather his thoughts, but to no avail as the girl sleeping under his neck made his mind wonder far from what he was trying to process. Gently, he reached up with one hand and brushed hair from her face. For so many years he had felt more or less alone, yet he didn't let it bother him. He claimed to enjoy the solitude, however, it was hard to imagine going back to such isolation. He considered, for a brief moment, what it would be like if he went back to how he used to be. Alone and secluded.

* * *

_** Sorry it took so long but um... It might take equally long to get the next ones up.. I mean to finish all of it before I continue any further. **_

_**Sorry.**_

_**Very.**_


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